


When the Sun Rises

by dreamonlosers



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Bonding, Coping, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, no slash lmao this is platonic af, somewhat paternal mustang but paternal isnt the best word
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-16 21:47:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13062804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamonlosers/pseuds/dreamonlosers
Summary: With the Hughes family away for a vacation and the other employees being unable to host company for various reasons, Edward was forced to turn to his commanding officer for a place to stay. Neither of them were happy to spend the night together, but Roy knew he had to be the adult and Edward knew he had to swallow his pride if he wanted some kind of bed to sleep on.Whatever. It was just one night.





	When the Sun Rises

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a little comfort fic that I needed to write. Mostly written for 2003!verse but it can fit into Mangahood!verse if you want - it doesn't matter. 
> 
> Sometimes I think I write Edward into situations that he needs help understanding and dealing with because I, too, struggle. Not with nightmares, necessarily, but learning how to open up a bit and 'read the room', so to speak. And finding a strong, guiding source of masculinity which, for Ed, seems to be Mustang no matter how much he wants to reject him.

Edward’s boots were going to be scuffed all to hell by the time he got to Roy’s apartment, but making a show of his obvious discomfort was more important than some scratched leather. He was a couple paces behind Mustang with his fists in his coat pockets and let out a loud sigh, letting his breath mix with the frigid air.

“Quit that,” Mustang said, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s not my fault that you can’t get your own place.”

Ed scowled at him, although the other man didn’t see it. “Actually, it is. If you bothered to raise my salary by even twenty cenz, I could afford a nice little loft for me and Alphonse and then I wouldn’t have to resort to your cave of a home.”

The military dorms were unexpectedly evacuated for the week as a disastrous gas leak sabotaged the building. Of course, it was also the week in which Edward was back in East City by himself, as Alphonse wasn’t considered a passenger and had to wait for the cargo train that would be a couple days behind. The train company in western Amestris was tragic, but it had a monopoly on all travel-related services - they had to make do with what they had.

With the Hughes family away for a vacation and the other employees being unable to host company for various reasons, Edward was forced to turn to his commanding officer for a place to stay. Neither of them were happy with the arrangement, but Roy knew he had to be the adult and Edward knew he had to swallow his pride if he wanted some kind of bed to sleep on.

Whatever. It was just one night.

“If you bothered to engage in less reckless behavior and not force the office to shell out hundreds in property damage, then maybe I’d be able to raise your salary,” Roy tutted. “Until then, keep your complaints to yourself. You’re lucky you’re not on the streets tonight.”

“Yeah, Hawkeye would shoot you if you made your disabled, young subordinate sleep on the cold, harsh pavement,” Ed retorted, sticking out his automail arm for emphasis. “Don’t pretend you’re choosing to be generous.”

Roy chuckled. “Fair enough.”

They come upon a dilapidated building with worn down bricks and plants growing over the windows; a chain link fence surrounded the property and Edward thought they were going to go around it, not inside. Roy stuck his key into the lock and jiggled it until it opened, holding the gate and letting Edward go through.

It was probably once a beautiful building. The bricks should’ve been bright and clean and the flowers from the hanging gardens should’ve been watered and thriving under sunlight hitting the front of the complex. There should have been children playing at the old playground and families mingling with each other at the little cafe on the first story; however, no one had bothered to take care of the homes in years. 

Either Mustang made less than Edward had thought or he didn’t care enough to own a nice house. He always imagined the colonel living in an unnecessarily lavish residential suite where he could compensate for his lack of intelligence and small penis with an abundance of expensive decor and amenities. That, clearly, was not the case.

Four flights of stairs took them up until the stairwell was rendered useless as a consequence of the big, gaping hole in the floor. Roy led Edward out the window onto the fire escape instead of towards the elevators - likely because they were out of order indefinitely. He felt uneasy so far from the ground, but Mustang assured him that it would hold both their weight. 

It had to be luck that the rusted metal didn't give in and send the pair crashing to an untimely death. Roy pushed open the window and stepped in. Ed followed, shamefully having to take Roy’s hand because his leg was too short to touch the floor.

“Why can't you afford a better place?” Edward asked, gazing upon the dim living room furnished with an old couch and coffee table. A whiskey bottle stood half empty. “Is it because your salary goes into funding your alcoholism?”

Mustang rolled his eyes. “I’ve been living here since I was twenty three and first got promoted to Captain. My aunt is close to the landlord, so I can stay here at a very discounted price. Why would I want to give that up?”

“Uh, so you don't have to live in a roach-infested, moldy shit-hole? Really, Mustang, I expected you to take more pride in yourself.”

Ed thought this was their usual bickering, but the glare he received from Mustang hinted that he was _really_ pushing the boundary. 

“Do you want to sleep on the streets tonight, Fullmetal? Be my guest, if my apartment is so shitty. I’m sure your leather pants will keep you warm,” he snapped. The nonchalant demeanor had dissipated and irritation took over. 

Ed winced, both embarrassed and indignant - his leather pants were just fine! But that wasn't the point, and Edward shifted his gaze to the floor as he sat on the sofa. They were both quiet as Roy hung his coat on the rack.

Too prideful to apologize, Ed tried to amend the tension through other means. He bounced his leg and said, “I, uh, like that picture over there.”

He was pointing to a portrait of a clown done in vibrant oil pastels. Its expression was forlorn and ironic, and it certainly served as an efficient conversation piece.

Mustang’s face softened, thankfully understanding the boy’s intentions at the odd compliment.

“Hm, yeah. It came with the apartment - I can't take it down.” He made of show of trying to pry it off the wall. “Maes named him ‘Boo Boo the Fool’.”

“Interesting.”

“I’d say so. Take off your boots before you trek mud all over the rug.”

Edward took his time unlacing his shoes, placing them by the window in which he entered. The boyish part of him wanted to shake some dirt onto the carpet just to spite him, but he ignored that in favor of respecting the man’s apartment no matter how bad his hospitality might be. 

It was a chilly evening, and Roy’s apartment didn't have a furnace in it. The setting sun cast shades of orange into the dark room colored with purples and blues - not the rich military blues of his uniform but of softer blues like crayons and early mornings. There was a barbeque downstairs and the scent of roasted meat permeated the apartment, the scent smokey and complimenting the fresh air carried in by the breeze.

“I suppose I have to feed you,” Mustang said as he emerged from the bathroom. Ed gave him a sarcastic snarl as the older man began rummaging through the pantry. To Edward’s surprise, they were empty sans a couple of bottles and cans.

“We could order some food from the restaurant around the block,” Edward suggested. “Although you’d have to give a pretty generous tip to the poor delivery guy that has to come all the way up here.”

Mustang smiled as he opened the fridge and pushed aside some jars. He forced open the meat drawer and triumphantly held out a package. “No need for that, there's some chicken here that I can cook. It’ll warm up the apartment, too.”

Although he doubted Mustang’s cooking skills, Edward found himself allured by the warmth of the oven and sat at the kitchen counter. He drummed his flesh fingers on the countertop and watched Mustang dump a cluster of seasonings on their dinner. 

For a while, the man had always been Colonel Mustang, alias the Flame Alchemist, the Hero of Ishval - the man who climbed the ranks to become the country’s youngest colonel. Ambitious, cold and calculating, his reputation earned him both respect and envy amongst the military.

But in the kitchen, it was just Roy. Roy Mustang. It was different to see him so...human. He squinted at the label on a package of salt, sucking in his cheek as he worked and planned to check the chicken every ten minutes because he wasn't sure how long it was supposed to cook. Either he meant to lose his work persona or he just let it fall off of him like snakeskin.

Edward realized that this is the man that his friends knew and not the one constantly scrutinized by colleagues and political enemies.

Dinner was served with a glass of water and a helping of peas on the side. Roy had managed to make the chicken edible, although Edward could have done without the sprinkling of cinnamon and paprika - the two didn't compliment each other. 

Mustang motioned for Ed to sit on the couch with him as he turned on the television. There was some kind of sitcom and the evening news and they agreed upon the sitcom - the news would just rehash recent cases that the department was all too familiar with. 

Edward crossed his legs and held his plate close to his chest. “Does there have to be laughter after every line?”

The colonel snorted. “It's called a joke, Fullmetal.”

“It's not funny, though.”

“Sitcoms never are too funny. People like them, however, because the ending is always good and lighthearted. I’m assuming you don't watch a lot of television, right?”

Ed nodded, not thinking about the bite of food in his mouth as he spoke. “There wasn't any cable out in Resembool, and now I don't have the time. Besides, they would only distract me - why bother?”

“Sometimes, we all need a bit of distraction,” Mustang said, looking down at his plate.

Edward thought that was fantastically cheesy and another example of the colonel’s pseudo-intellectualism, but he made no comment on it; the man’s face had grown tired over their conversation, his eyes dull and his tone low. Not knowing what to make of it, the boy shifted his gaze onto the screen. 

The woman on the television was frantically searching for her glasses, only to discover that they had been in her hands all along. It reminded him of what Winry would do with her tools back home; Ed couldn't help but chuckle.

-

He had a couch to himself that night. Roy gave him some sheets and a pillow before he retired to his bedroom and Edward slept with one foot off the sofa, letting the cold air tickle his human leg. Because he felt weird sleeping in his pajamas - shirtless with just his boxers - he kept his pants on and wore his black tank top. The pants were a bit hot but there was no way in hell he was going to spend the night in his underwear.

Mustang let him borrow the phone so he could say goodnight to Alphonse way out west. His brother tried to mask his loneliness with light-hearted sarcasm, but Edward knew that it was going to be hard. It was bad enough that he could never fall asleep - now he had to do it without the presence of his older brother or someone familiar. It bothered them both.

The neighborhood wasn’t quiet. Below the apartment, dogs were barking and nighttime construction was making what would be making a noisy cacophony, but Edward didn't mind it at all. 

At least, he didn't mind it while he was awake. 

When he fell asleep, however, the noise was different. It elicited memories of screams, groans and moans from something that could never be human. They haunted his dreams that night, tormenting him and he just wanted it all to stop.

_“Why didn't you bring me back, Edward?” She asks. “Don't you love your mother?”_

_(The truth is that he loved her so much that he gave his leg for her. His brother loved her so much that he gave his body for her.)_

_(She loved them so much that she forgave them, but they wouldn't know that.)_

_He's back in Resembool. It's raining outside and he's in the basement again. Alphonse is there, too, bringing in a dish of water and chalk. The transmutation circle is almost complete and their fathers’ alchemy textbook doesn't feel so heavy anymore._

_Edward prays. His brother doesn't know this, and he'd never admit it, but he prayed that night. He prays to whoever may listen but knows it'll go unanswered. If praying worked, they wouldn't be doing this._

_It happens again. Edward can't count how many times he's dreamt about this, but it doesn't get easier. He hears Alphonse scream, he hears the blood from his leg dripping onto the floor. He hears the creature begging for an end._

_Then it's approaching him with sharp fangs and long claws and he can't get away from it. He finds himself struggling in its jaw, crying out in pain as flesh tears from his body._

_His mother asks why he couldn't do better. Edward doesn't have an answer._

_“Fullmetal,” she chides. “Fullmetal, wake up.”_

“Wake up, goddammit!”

Edward jolted from his sleep, gasping. Someone was gripping his shoulder but the hand was too small and soft to belong to his brother. He took a moment to ground himself with deep breaths, remembering where he was and who he was with.

In the darkness, he could barely see Mustang’s face. Perhaps it was for the best that he couldn't see the man’s expression, and vice versa, because there was too much emotion to process for the both of them. Edward sat up and Roy withdrew from the boy, settling on his knees.

“Did I wake you?” Ed whispered. 

They were the only two in the room, but he felt as though he had to keep his voice low to mind the lingering spirits he didn't believe in; so he wouldn't bother the ghosts that weren't following him and never were. 

Mustang sighed, the twitch in his eye telling of his stress and exhaustion. “No, you didn't. I couldn't sleep.”

The war, Ed thought. That would keep anyone awake, especially someone on the front lines. Death had devastated the people of Ishval, and it wouldn't have been easy for the soldiers on the other side. Some called it equivalent exchange - the nightmares, anxiety and depression - while others called it being traumatized and pitied them as victims of battle. 

Both men considered it the former, but neither spoke of it.

“They get worse,” Edward explained, feeling obligated to justify his episode although he was sure that Mustang had experienced the same thing. “When Alphonse isn't here or I’m somewhere unfamiliar. I was just hoping it wouldn't happen this time.”

He didn't want to delve too far into it. If they were going to psychoanalyze him, they'd have to have a lot more time on their hands - a couple days, at least.

When he looked at Mustang, he expected sarcastic remark or nonchalant nod of understanding - either one would be an appropriate ending to an awkward moment. It was something they both seemed to agree should be forgotten, or at least never mentioned again. 

Instead of dismissing the situation, however, Mustang climbed onto the couch and picked up the blanket that Edward had thrown off during his fit. 

“Scoot over,” he said. Edward made sure to snarl at him, but they both understood that it meant nothing. 

However, just because one dude woke up another from a nightmare late into the night didn't mean they had to start braiding each other’s hair and sharing their feelings. Ed felt as though he should reiterate that.

Roy switched on the television at a low volume. A theme song for an older program began to play and the boy groaned. It was another sitcom, this time about a family with ten kids. For city folks, that was a spectacle, but Edward knew more families with more children out in Resembool - he wasn't impressed.

Regardless, he curled his legs under himself and rested his human arm on the pillow, silently watching the scene. More jokes he didn't get, more references he didn't understand, but it was better than going back to his nightmare. Roy didn't seem to mind staying up, either. He likely preferred this than fighting himself to fall asleep in an empty room with nothing but his guilt to keep him company.

The television was a distraction that was beginning to work for Edward. When it kept his attention, at least, there weren't any lingering thoughts of remorse or terror to bother him. 

“It helps make the sun rise faster,” Roy murmured. Some time had passed, although Edward wasn't sure how much - the man had no clocks in his living room and he had gotten lost in the television. He looked over to see Mustang’s head resting in his hand, lolling to the side as if he was ready to drift into sleep. 

Before he retired for the night, the colonel grumbled a soft, “Go to sleep, kid.”

In truth, Edward couldn't remember if he ever went back to sleep. Either his mind went blank for several hours or he was able to avoid another embarrassing nightmare - either way, sunlight was filtering through the curtains and settling a pleasant warmth onto his skin. He looked over to see an empty space where Mustang had been resting, realizing that he was hearing the man take a shower and the noise wasn't just a meaningless buzz in the background.

It was finally the beginning of a new day.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
